


In Too Deep

by moonix



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Exy (All For The Game), Demisexual Neil Josten, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Summer, Swimming Pools, lifeguard AU, soft, swimming lessons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24437791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonix/pseuds/moonix
Summary: Neil works as a lifeguard at the local swimming pool. Andrew can't swim.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 60
Kudos: 763





	In Too Deep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gluupor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluupor/gifts).



> This is for the lovely Lisa, pillar of this fandom, purveyor of fics, all around rad person, who asked for a lifeguard AU and summer feels. Not sure if I delivered on the shirtless slo-mo running, but I tried. ;)
> 
> Thanks to fuzzballsheltiepants for reading this over for me and being the sweetest cheerleader!
> 
> I don't think this needs any particular warnings. Scars and a past car accident are mentioned, but that's about it?

“You are such a dumbass,” Neil said, dropping the largest chocolate fudge sundae Matt had to offer on the table in front of a very bedraggled looking Andrew.

It would have been quite a sight to behold, if Neil hadn’t been so angry.

“Thanks,” Andrew said drily, eyeing the sundae. He was wrapped in two towels—the black one was his own, the rainbow striped one donated by Renee—and his hair was plastered to the side of his head like he’d been swept up in a minor hurricane. “I’ll remember that the next time my nephew is about to drown while you’re busy tearing into some teenager for littering.”

Neil glanced over to where Renee was helping Reese choose his sundae toppings. Reese had Katelyn’s dark hair and brown skin, tanned further by a month spent in the summer sun. The only thing he had in common with Aaron was his height, though he was still holding out for a growth spurt. From a distance, he looked about as closely related to Andrew as Nicky did, but when they sat next to each other there was such an uncanny similarity in their facial expressions and the way they talked that there was no doubt at all they shared some of the same genes.

“He was never in any danger and Renee was right there,” Neil reminded Andrew. “You, on the other hand, could have drowned.”

Andrew muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Better me than him,” and Neil barely stopped himself from throwing the melting sundae in his face.

“Andrew,” he said, carefully measuring out his words with the tiniest imaginary spoon he could conjure in his mind’s eye. “What happened last year wasn’t your fault. You don’t have to keep hovering over him like a failed guardian angel.”

Andrew stared studiously off into the distance and didn’t reply. Neil sighed and went to pick the sundae up, but Andrew’s hand shot out from under his towel and snagged the rim of the bowl.

“I am eating that.”

“You’re clearly not.”

Andrew demonstratively picked up the cherry on top and plopped it on his tongue.

“When were you going to tell me that you can’t swim?” Neil asked.

Andrew did something with his eyebrow that clearly spelled “never” and dipped his finger into the ice-cream sludge, then licked it off with a loud slurping noise. Neil rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers against the table, but before he could press the matter further, Reese came barrelling over with a towering sundae smothered in sprinkles, M&Ms, and poisonous-looking sour gummy worms.

“There were no peanut butter cups left,” he told Andrew gravely.

“Outrageous,” Andrew replied in the same tone of voice. “We should sue.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Neil could see a group of boys sneak towards the diving tower that sported a giant CLOSED sign.

“I should get back,” he said. “Andrew, if you go near the deep end again, I will personally get you banned from the pool.”

“Uh-oh,” Reese muttered around a mouthful of ice-cream. “You’re in trouble, Uncle Drew.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes at him.

“So will you be if I tell your parents that you jumped into the pool without supervision.”

“ _If_ ,” Reese echoed. “ _If_ you tell them.”

“You think I won’t?”

“I think you won’t,” Reese said slowly, “with the right _incentive_.”

Neil didn’t hear what the right incentive was anymore, which was probably for the best—at least he’d be able to plead ignorance if Katelyn and Aaron came asking questions later.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze. It was a humid day, sweat tickling between his fingers and in the crooks of his knees even when all he did was sit in the shade and watch the people around him. The sky was a drowsy, sun-bleached blue, the thin gauzy clouds offering virtually no protection from the heat. Andrew and Reese were camped out under the big oak tree as usual, both absorbed in their books, though Andrew would occasionally entrust Reese to Renee’s care so Reese could go into the water. Neil kept an eye on them both and tried not to think about the pale blur of Andrew’s body sinking to the bottom of the pool like a stone.

Around five, the lounge chairs and the meadow started to empty. The flimsy clouds frothed and thickened, choking out the sunset, and the air soured with the bile of approaching rain. Neil helped Renee secure the rest of the diving towers while Matt dismantled the sunshades as the wind plucked at them more and more insistently. A lone popsicle wrapper blew past and disappeared into the shrubbery lining the fence.

Neil caught Andrew just as he and Reese were about to go through the turnstile. Katelyn was waiting for them by her car, dress writhing about her and hand clutching her sun hat to protect it from the wind.

“Hey,” Neil said, catching the strap of Andrew’s bag to stop him. “I can teach you, you know.”

“Teach me what,” Andrew said flatly.

“To swim.”

Something bloomed, like algae, beneath the still surface of Andrew’s eyes, but it was pulled back into the depths a second later.

“I have keys to the pool,” Neil reminded him. “How about tomorrow night after we close up?”

“Fine,” Andrew said, like he was doing Neil a favour. Like Neil hadn’t hauled him bodily out of the water just a few hours earlier.

“Okay,” Neil said, strangely relieved. “See you then.”

Andrew went through the turnstile without a backwards glance, hair purpled by the bruising light, neck ringed a faint red like he’d forgotten to apply sunscreen there.

-

Neil never expected to end up as a lifeguard at a dinky local pool in the backwaters of bumfuck nowhere. After his father’s death and his mother’s arrest he’d drifted, unmoored and without a plan, until some current of circumstance had washed him ashore. He’d entered first EMT then lifeguard training at the coast with vague notions about undoing some of the damage his father had wrought on the world, chipping away at his grim legacy one saved life at a time, but it had worn him down over the years. It wasn’t a debt that could be paid in just one tenuous lifetime; maybe never. So Neil had done what he always did: packed his bags and started over somewhere new.

He’d stopped at the Riviera Motel at the edge of town while passing through, just him and a rickety old car filled with his meagre possessions, and something about the peeling Help Wanted notice on the corkboard by the entrance had caught his eye. One year later and he still hadn’t entirely unpacked his car, but he also still hadn’t left. It was an odd limbo, but not an uncomfortable one as far as Neil was concerned.

And then there was Andrew.

Neil had never gone out of his way to make friends. Getting invited out for a drink with Matt and his lot after work had taken some time to get used to, but Neil was nothing if not quick to adapt. Andrew lingered at the edges of the group, never really part of it but still tied to its various members for reasons Neil still hadn’t entirely figured out. With Neil carefully skirting around the centre of attention, trying his best to navigate the shallows of what was socially acceptable, it was inevitable that their respective orbits eventually crossed.

Aside from the occasional stolen moment on a dark balcony and fragments of conversation snatched in the unclaimed spaces of their mutual social gatherings, they just hadn’t really spent any considerable length of time together alone—until now.

Neil closed up the pool by himself after Renee left for the night. Yesterday’s rain had long since evaporated in today’s heat and his bones felt boiled clean, his skin tight and sun-sore. A light breeze was nosing around in the grass around him and the sky was lilac with a dribble of sweet orange around the horizon. The air carried scents of sun-baked flowers and neighbourhood barbecues, and Neil stripped off his shirt and lowered himself into the still, blue water of the pool.

Swimming laps after work when everyone was gone had become a daily routine ever since Wymack had handed him a set of keys and told him to do what he liked so long as he left the place ready for opening the next day. Neil settled smoothly into the familiar, repetitive motions, the steady swish of the water and the pleasant strain in his arms and shoulders, then took a break to float on his back and watch the first stars pop and crackle into view above.

When he swung back upright, he caught sight of a dark-clad figure clambering laboriously over the turnstile and dropping down inside the fence.

“I was not aware I would have to resort to breaking and entering for a fucking swimming lesson,” Andrew grumbled, tossing his bag on a lounge chair and sitting down next to it to untie his shoes.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Neil grinned. He folded his arms on the warm stone at the edge of the pool, kicking his feet idly behind him and watching as Andrew tugged off his shirt.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Andrew said, long-suffering.

Neil had turned on the lamps that were submerged in the water, and the light rippled and coiled restlessly around him as he waited. When Andrew sat on the edge of the pool, it snaked up his legs and brushed reverent, golden touches across his face and shoulders. All around them crickets sang, the noise rising steadily to a staticky buzz in Neil’s ears.

“This is where the shallow part ends,” Neil said, indicating a line painted on the bottom of the pool to his right. “You should be able to reach the floor as long as you remain inside the line. Although… how tall are you, exactly?”

Andrew shot him an unimpressed look.

“I know what the line means, and you are not one to talk.”

“No, but out of the two of us, I’m the one who can reliably keep myself afloat,” Neil reminded him, pushing off from the edge and drifting backwards until he lost momentum. Andrew kicked out his foot and narrowly missed splashing him.

“Scared?” Neil teased, splashing back.

“Of what, the pool noodles? Your terrible small-talk?” Andrew replied dryly. He lifted himself up and over the edge and plunged into the water, and Neil swam over to him and stopped a few paces away.

“Right, so-”

“I know the mechanics,” Andrew interrupted, wiping his hand through the water. “I’ve watched Renee’s lessons all summer.”

“Great,” Neil said. “So it’s only a matter of practice, then.”

He gestured at the water with a little mock bow. Andrew didn’t move, frowning at the undulating glow of the lamps.

“You could just try the arm movement first,” Neil suggested.

“And look like a complete idiot?” Andrew hissed.

“You have to start somewhere. And there’s no one around, anyway.”

Andrew pointedly looked at him before going back to glaring at the water like it had personally offended him. Neil tried to remember what Renee usually did to put the children at ease when they were scared of the water, but his mind came up blank. He didn’t think Andrew would appreciate being treated like a child, anyway.

“My mother taught me how to swim when I was little,” he found himself saying instead. “She’d pretend like she was drowning and I had to rescue her.”

“We are not doing that,” Andrew gritted out.

“No, I’m just… terrible at small-talk, remember?” Neil said sheepishly. When Andrew looked at him expectantly, he went on: “We had a pool on the roof of the house and you could see for miles from up there. I used to spend hours in the water, until my fingers were so pruny they felt almost numb.”

Slowly, Andrew bent his knees, lowering himself into the water until only his head and softly bobbing shoulders remained.

“When my mother wasn’t looking, I’d scoop out the insects that had flown into the pool,” Neil continued absent-mindedly as Andrew stretched out his arms like a diver. “She said it was futile, that our staff would take care of it when they cleaned the pool at night. But by then they would be dead, and in that moment I still had the power to save them, so why shouldn’t I?”

_Splash_.

Andrew launched himself forwards too fast and Neil reflexively went under, catching him around the chest and pulling him back up. For a moment they were close enough that Neil could smell the coconut suntan lotion on Andrew’s skin and feel his heaving breaths under his skin. Then Andrew coughed once and Neil let him go.

“Well,” he said, “that was… a first try.”

Andrew glared at him, wiping his hands down his arms and torso as if getting rid of Neil’s fingerprints.

“Okay, look,” Neil said. “I think we need to approach this differently. Maybe we should practice how to get yourself back above water if you sink first.”

“Whatever,” Andrew muttered.

“Right. So, let’s try slowly crouching down in the water until your head is submerged, and then push yourself back up, okay? Here, take my hands.”

Andrew eyed Neil’s outstretched hands like they were live electric eels for a moment before grabbing them tightly.

“Now, take a deep breath. On three—one, two…”

Andrew went before Neil had finished counting and Neil followed the tug on his hands, bending his knees until they were both crouched on the bottom of the pool. The light of the lamp behind Andrew coiled around him like an octopus and his blond hair was almost translucent in the water. When he opened his eyes, squinting at Neil through the burn of the chlorine, they were a wet green.

He looked almost relaxed, if not for the grip on Neil’s hands that was still tight enough to bruise. Neil smiled at him and jerked his chin at the surface, watching for a moment as Andrew rose before letting his hands pull him up as well.

“How are you feeling?” Neil asked, untangling their fingers.

“Like a fucking mermaid,” Andrew said, rolling his eyes. “What’s next? Combing my hair with a fork and talking to crabs?”

“I mean, if you want to,” Neil grinned. “Renee does this thing where she gets people acclimatised to the water by just letting them float, to teach them how to hold tension in your body and stay on top of the water. We could try that?”

“Sounds thrilling,” Andrew deadpanned.

“You have to be a bit more patient with yourself. Just remember you’re doing this for Reese, right? You can’t save anyone else if you’re drowning.”

“You sound just like my therapist,” Andrew muttered, carving little spaces out of the water with his hands. “Fine. Show me the floating.”

“Try to keep your hips elevated,” Neil advised, lying back and thrusting his hips up to demonstrate, then letting them sink lower to show the difference. “Like this, your weight will drag you down. It’s the same if you’re doing a breaststroke or anything—your hips should always be level with the surface. You can move your arms and legs a bit to keep afloat, but it doesn’t take much if you don’t want to go anywhere.”

He pulled himself upright again. Andrew was looking intently at a spot in the water, but there were only the softly undulating ripples of the light.

“Alright?”

“Great,” Andrew said quickly, then threw himself backwards and promptly submerged himself completely again. At least this time his feet hit the ground and he managed to right himself before Neil had to fish him out.

“Okay,” Neil said, clearing his throat, “how about we try this again, but much, much slower. Imagine… imagine you’re bathing a baby. That’s how slow you wanna go. If you feel unbalanced, you can try spreading your legs a bit to even out.”

“Shut up,” Andrew gritted out, but he did go slower this time, lowering himself into the water like he expected his head to bash against the edge at any moment.

“That’s it,” Neil said, positioning his arms underneath Andrew’s chest and knees. “I’ve got you. Hips up, remember?

At last, Andrew was floating, stiff and angry, with little jerky motions of his hands. Whenever his legs sank too low, Neil gave them a little nudge, and occasionally Andrew’s hands brushed against Neil’s arms in his efforts to stay afloat.

“Not too bad, is it?” Neil said.

Andrew scowled and tried to lift his head out of the water.

“What?”

“I said-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Andrew lost his balance and thrashed, grabbing blindly for purchase. Neil reached out instinctively and caught him, and when the splashing stopped Andrew was snugly cradled in Neil’s arms, bridal-style.

“I hate you,” Andrew panted. “Let me down.”

“You’re going to have to let me go first,” Neil pointed out calmly, nodding to where Andrew’s arms were still tightly wound around his neck. Light trembled across Andrew’s face and chest like goosebumps, catching on the faded scars that ran from his wrists up to his elbows. He’d stopped covering them up after Reese’s accident, though whenever someone asked him about it, he said he was simply tired of wearing long sleeves in the summer. The fact that Reese had started being more comfortable with his own scars usually went unmentioned.

“I think this is enough for one night,” Neil decided once Andrew was back on his feet. He’d started to shiver and looked prepared to suffer through it, but at Neil’s words, he immediately waded over to the nearest ladder and wordlessly climbed out of the pool.

They showered, dried off and got dressed in silence. The sky was a navy beach towel sprinkled with stars like grains of sand, and Neil took a moment to look up at them after he turned off the pool lights, breathing in the clear night air.

“Neil,” Andrew said from somewhere near the turnstile.

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to unlock the damn thing or do I have to climb it again?”

Neil laughed softly and walked past him, pushing through the turnstile with ease.

“It’s open from the inside. Come on.”

The parking lot was splashed in orange light from the street lamps, like melted popsicles dotted along the road. Neil hitched his bag over his shoulder and spotted Andrew’s bike nestled in a corner.

“Hey, can you give me a ride?”

There was something odd about the silence behind him, like swimming through a pocket of water that was suddenly colder than the rest. He turned around and saw Andrew’s eyes fixed on a point just above the bike. The realisation that Andrew had sold his car and bought a motorcycle after the accident trickled slowly down Neil’s back. As far as he knew, Andrew had also stopped giving people rides.

“You don’t have to,” he tacked on.

“I only have one helmet,” Andrew said at last.

“Renee usually has a spare in her locker,” Neil pointed out. “She takes me home after work sometimes.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“How do you normally get home?”

“I run,” Neil said, flapping his hand around. “So?”

“How are you planning to get into Renee’s locker?” Andrew countered.

“I couldn’t possibly tell you,” Neil grinned. “That would make you an accomplice.”

“Are you planning on committing a murder?”

“Maybe,” Neil shrugged.

He dipped back into the building, down the hall to where the gear closet, staff lockers and Wymack’s office were tucked away. The locks weren’t particularly sophisticated. It was a matter of moments until Neil had Renee’s locker open and he grabbed the spare helmet before joining Andrew outside again.

“Let’s go,” he said, sliding onto the seat behind Andrew. “Where should I put my hands?”

There was that silence again, then Andrew said: “I don’t care,” and revved the motor. Neil had just enough time to take hold of Andrew’s waist and then they were off, speeding down the empty, tree-lined street with the sky flung above them and the air rushing in Neil’s ears like blood.

-

They fell into a routine. Andrew would come to the pool after closing time for swimming lessons, and then he’d drive Neil home on his bike. Sometimes they stopped at the only diner still open in town and got a late dinner together, sitting in a corner booth by the window in silence scrubbed clean by chlorine and exhaustion. Andrew was slowly mastering a simple breaststroke, though anything more complicated still eluded him.

One night, about two weeks after they’d started, Andrew was so late that Neil had almost given up on him showing up altogether. Neil had finished his laps and was floating on his back, sounds muffled by the water, though he still felt the disturbance around him when Andrew joined him in the pool. He looked up to see that Andrew had mirrored his position, staring up at the sky, gaze waterlogged like the clothes he was still wearing.

“Hey,” Neil said, pushing himself upright and tugging on Andrew’s wet sleeve to get his attention. Andrew pulled away and turned in the water, hooking one arm over the edge of the pool and letting his head rest in the crook of his elbow as he stared Neil down.

“What’s up?” Neil asked, drifting over to stand beside him. “Don’t want to swim tonight?”

Andrew’s eyes glittered as the light lapped at them.

“Your mother,” he said after a while. “Do you still see her?”

“Yeah. Sometimes,” Neil admitted. Visiting her in prison meant almost an entire day spent in his car with only memories and her crackly old tapes for company and sitting in waiting room after waiting room until they finally let him through. All for a meagre half hour of stilted conversation and thick silences that filled the air like stale cigarette smoke between them.

“But not your father,” Andrew clarified.

“No,” Neil agreed, “not him.”

He’d never set foot in the cemetery where his father was buried. It could burn down for all he cared.

“Dinner?” he suggested, his voice lighter than he felt. Andrew kicked his feet idly as he considered it, then nodded. Neil looked pointedly down at Andrew’s soaked shirt. “Did you bring spare clothes?”

“No,” Andrew said, blinking down at himself like he was only just noticing his wet clothes. Neil hoisted himself out of the water and grabbed his towel, scrubbing himself down quickly.

“Wait here.”

He fetched a spare pair of shorts and one of his work t-shirts from his locker. They were bright turquoise with the Lagoon’s logo, a blue palm tree over stylised waves, printed on the breast pocket and the back.

The shorts were a bright, neon orange.

“I am not wearing that,” Andrew said immediately when Neil approached him. He’d already peeled off his sodden black shirt and crossed his arms in front of his bare chest, biceps bulking out at the motion. With his broad shoulders and strong arms he almost had a swimmer’s build, though Neil still had to correct his legwork in the water a lot. On land Andrew had a tendency to hunch in on himself, slouching and dragging his feet like a sullen teenager despite the fact that he was a couple of years older than Neil.

“It’s either that or going commando,” Neil smirked, dropping the clothes on the nearest lounge chair. “Your call. I’m going to shower.”

He heard the spray come on in a stall further down the line shortly after, but he didn’t look. They had an unspoken agreement not to talk in the showers. Washing up felt a lot more private than being almost-naked in the pool together for some reason, and Neil was grateful for the reprieve.

“I hate you,” Andrew greeted him at the turnstile, resplendent in turquoise and orange. Only his flip-flops and his bag were black, merging with the darkness around them. One side of his collar stuck up and his hair had made a tiny whirlpool on the back of his head. It was oddly charming.

“So you’re not allergic to colour after all,” Neil grinned.

“I don’t know. I’m feeling pretty itchy,” Andrew hummed and mimed scratching his arms.

“Don’t worry, we have epipens in the first aid cabinet.”

“Good to know.”

“Come on, you still owe me a burger,” Neil said, slipping his—Renee’s—helmet on as they walked over to the bike.

Something made Neil hesitate before putting his hands on Andrew’s hips tonight, even though he’d done it so many times now. Maybe it was the fact that Andrew had kept his clothes on earlier, or the careful distance he’d maintained between them in the pool.

“Is this-” he started to ask, but Andrew just sighed and grabbed his wrists, pulling them snug around his waist.

“I don’t care how many Kegel exercises you and Matt do, you are not riding this bike without holding on.”

“How many what now?” Neil asked, amused. He knew exactly what they were, thanks to Matt’s latest obsession, but he wanted to see how Andrew would describe exercises to strengthen pelvic floor muscles in his deadpan manner.

Andrew didn’t indulge him and instead started the bike and drove out of the parking lot, speeding up on the empty road until all Neil could do was tuck his face between Andrew’s shoulderblades and hold on. The smell of his coconut lotion mixed with chlorine and night air was a familiar one by now and Neil breathed in deep and found himself wishing nonsensically that the drive to the diner was longer.

Every time Andrew’s muscles flexed beneath him as he took a turn in the road, Neil’s stomach felt like laminated paper. Something in him was convinced that here, on the back of Andrew’s bike, was the safest place he could be, even though he knew logically that it was not. The accident that had put both Andrew and Reese in the hospital last year had been a hit-and-run, the car coming out of nowhere on a dark road. It hadn’t been Andrew’s fault, but they’d never found the person behind the wheel either.

Some people in town still whispered behind their hands and tried to blame Andrew for it. Neil’s arms tightened, anger fuzzing through him at the thought. Andrew was self-destructive, but he would never put his family in danger. The helmet on Neil’s head and the fact that they were going just under the speed limit even when they were flying down deserted streets was proof of that.

Too soon, they stopped outside Palm Beach Diner, its candied neon lights buzzing through the night and making Neil’s wind-sore eyes squint against their brightness.

“You can stop trying to suffocate me now,” Andrew said, plucking at Neil’s sleeve. Neil quickly unlaced his arms and slid off the bike on unsteady feet. He ignored the curious look Andrew shot him and went inside the diner to get their usual order while Andrew secured their table.

They didn’t talk much over their burgers, picking away at the large basket of sweet potato fries between them. Neil made a sneaky game out of trying to grab whatever fry Andrew was going for next out from under his nose, salt-crusted and grease-slicked fingers darting in and out so fast that sometimes they ended up sliding along Andrew’s own. Andrew gave him a warning look and half-heartedly swatted them away, but didn’t tell him to stop.

When they were done, Andrew cleared their plates and came back with a fruit salad for Neil and a milkshake for himself. It was bubblegum pink, with whipped cream and cocktail cherries on top, and Neil stole one of the cherries when Andrew was busy gazing out the window at the deep purple night. It stuck between his teeth, sugary sweet and tacky, and Neil hid his grimace in a napkin.

Despite the glacial pace at which Andrew sipped his milkshake, the time to leave still arrived too soon. The night was velvety smooth, the air outside the diner heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine and frying oil. Neil climbed back on Andrew’s bike with a splinter of disappointment lodged in his stomach—just a few more minutes, then Andrew would drop him off at home.

When had he turned so greedy for company?

The bike rolled to a stop outside the house and Neil reluctantly slid off. Andrew followed and leaned against his bike, hands in his pockets.

“Um. Do you want a cup of coffee or something?” Neil asked, one hand still resting on the warm leather seat behind Andrew.

“Or something,” Andrew echoed with a note of disbelief that Neil couldn’t quite place. His eyes glimmered in the dark like star dust on moss.

“Is that a yes?” Neil checked.

“Yes,” Andrew said, pushing off from his bike and following Neil up to the house.

The lights were on as Neil let them inside and a suspicious smell of cooking hung in the air. Neil cringed and tried to think of a casual way to say “How about we leave again, as quietly as possible, so my demented roommate doesn’t notice us,” but Kevin had already stuck his head out of the kitchen.

“Neil! Where were you? I made a casserole.”

“Yikes,” Neil said. Kevin’s eyes narrowed at the sight of Andrew.

“You brought a fan?” he asked with an air of exasperation, patting at his hair and straightening his shoulders, smoothing down the smudged purple apron he was wearing.

Andrew barely took one look at him. Neil couldn’t suppress a tiny thrill when he said, standing in the hallway with Kevin’s trophies and medals on display along the walls, surrounded by gleaming trinkets, photographs and framed newspaper clippings: “And who’s this clown supposed to be?”

“Kevin, Andrew,” Neil said loosely, waving his hand between them. “We were just going to grab a cup of coffee.”

Kevin spluttered but recovered quickly enough to block Neil’s entry into the kitchen.

“Try the casserole first. I need a second opinion.”

“Here’s a second opinion: it’s probably garbage,” Neil said, but by the time he’d wrangled the fancy espresso machine into submission Kevin had already plated up two generous helpings of casserole for them. He held one out to Andrew, who looked at it, shrugged and took the plate.

“It’s free food,” he said at Neil’s warning headshake.

“It’s your funeral,” Neil corrected, leaving his own plate on the counter and grabbing both coffee cups before Kevin could try forcing it on him again.

The house was larger than either Kevin or Neil needed, but not so large it reminded Neil of the empty, echoing halls of his father’s mansion. Over time he’d stuffed his room with plants and terrariums, cushions, beanbag chairs, cat trees and an aquarium to make it feel less agoraphobic. With Kevin rattling around the rest of the house at any time of the day or night, it was mostly bearable, if not strangely homely.

“So,” Andrew said, turning a slow circle in Neil’s room still holding his casserole, “you and Kevin Day are…”

“Housemates,” Neil supplied. “Wymack’s idea, actually. He thought Kevin needed someone to look after him, and I apparently needed to move out of the Riviera.”

“That dank motel? The one with the ant infestation?”

“It wasn’t an _infestation_ ,” Neil muttered, setting Andrew’s coffee down and sitting on his bed. Andrew tapped one of the spherical terrariums suspended from the ceiling, making it swing gently back and forth, and opted to sit on the floor. He speared a pea from his casserole, squinted at it, and stuck it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

“Kevin is on a culinary experiment kick,” Neil said, watching in morbid fascination as Andrew scooped another bite into his mouth. “He really needs a hobby now that he’s retired. I’ve suggested crocheting, but it didn’t take.”

“Are you aware your aquarium has no fish in it,” Andrew said.

“Oh. Yes. I keep meaning to get some, but…”

Technically, he also did not own any cats yet, but since this was harder to discern—after all, there _could_ be a cat, tucked away in any of the various hiding spots around the house—he decided not to volunteer that information just yet. Andrew simply nodded as if Neil hadn’t just given the vaguest possible response and continued eating his casserole. Neil wondered if it tasted as violently green as it looked and came to the conclusion that the answer was: probably worse.

“What about glow in the dark stars,” Andrew said when his plate was empty. He’d laid back on the blue rug and was looking up at the ceiling, the hanging terrariums swaying and spinning slowly in place above him.

“What about them,” Neil said, but Andrew didn’t elaborate. He just kept watching the quieting motions of the terrariums, arms and legs outstretched like he was floating.

Neil put down his coffee and lowered himself beside Andrew, trying to see what he saw, floating on the floor with dust prickling in his ears. On his left was a bowl of four-leafed clover that he’d been meaning to re-pot and he stroked his fingers along the soft crowns.

“When I was a kid,” he murmured, words a thin stream of bubbles fizzing upwards and out, “I used to look for lucky clover everywhere I went. I guess I thought that if I just collected enough, I could, I don’t know. Barter with fate. Exchange them for a better life.”

“Hmm,” Andrew said.

“Stupid, I know.”

“When I was thirteen,” Andrew said flatly, “I bought a bag of glow in the dark stars. I was going to put one up for every bad night, but I ran out of stars pretty quickly.”

“Kevin has a swimming pool in the basement,” Neil offered. “But it feels too much like my father’s basement, so I never use it.”

Andrew reached up a hand and tapped the lowest-hanging globe. It was filled with tiny purple succulents that were so plump they looked like they were made out of plastic.

“The closest I got to a swimming lesson was getting black-out drunk at fourteen and deliberately falling into the river,” Andrew gave up in exchange. “The police officer who pulled me out thought I was Aaron. When I said I wasn’t, they were convinced I had amnesia.” He made a noise that sounded like the soft, vulnerable underbelly of amusement. “If only.”

Finally, Neil couldn’t resist the itch in his neck anymore and turned his head to look at Andrew. The light from his bedside lamp took on a strange, sage green quality as it was filtered through the various plants before spilling onto the floor, murky like the bottom of a lake, but Andrew’s profile was sharp and clear as a hot summer morning.

“I’m terrified that if I get fish for the aquarium I won’t look after them right and they’ll die,” Neil whispered.

Andrew raised an eyebrow and flicked his gaze sideways.

“What? I thought we were exchanging deep dark secrets,” Neil said.

“Enough deep dark for tonight,” Andrew said. Neil noticed that he hadn’t touched his coffee yet and it was probably getting cold.

“Did you want sugar or cream? I forgot.”

Andrew turned his head and looked at him. His pupils were wide, overgrowing the dappled moss of his irises.

“I don’t like coffee.”

“I thought you wanted some.”

“I said _or something_ ,” Andrew muttered, gaze flitting erratically over Neil’s face like an indecisive hummingbird.

“Right,” Neil murmured. “Or something.”

They were quiet, both looking at each other. Neil swallowed and Andrew’s eyes tracked the movement of his Adam’s apple, the click of his jaw.

Just as Andrew opened his mouth, there was a knock on the door and Kevin burst in without waiting for a reply.

“Crème brûlée!” he announced wildly, shaking a slightly smoking dish at them. He was wearing oversized oven mitts printed with cartoon fish and had an old pair of swimming goggles pushed into his hair. He looked rather like a mad scientist.

“Kevin,” Neil said, pushing himself up on his elbows.

“I know, I know, I burned it a little, but it’s still edible,” Kevin said, plopping down on the floor between them. He passed a spoon to Andrew, who took it, and held one out to Neil, who merely stared him down until Kevin left it on the floor. “I thought a pinch of salt might be nice. You know, like salted caramel? Since it’s basically caramel on top. But I might have overdone it.”

He scrunched up his nose and waited anxiously as Andrew tapped the layer of hard, caramelised sugar with his spoon until it cracked.

“What do you think?” Kevin asked the moment Andrew had scooped the first spoonful in his mouth. Andrew shrugged and ate another spoonful, then another. Awed, Kevin watched as he finished nearly the whole thing in stoic silence.

“You won’t drink a perfectly fine cup of coffee but you’ll eat _that_?” Neil asked, offended.

“You didn’t even try it,” Andrew huffed, amused.

“I’ve suffered through enough of his terrible cooking to know better,” Neil groused. “After the raspberry mustard cupcakes, I swore to myself never again.”

“So are you two like, dating now?” Kevin asked him. “You should invite Andrew for lunch tomorrow. He needs to try my sourdough pizza.”

“Emphasis on sour,” Neil muttered. “You can’t arrange dates for us whenever it suits you. You do know he has a job, right? He can’t just come over in the middle of the day.”

“Really? What does he do, then?” Kevin asked peevishly.

“Uh,” Neil said, glancing over at Andrew.

“I train monkeys for the circus,” Andrew said deadpan.

“He trains monkeys for the circus,” Neil told Kevin. “See? He can’t just abandon the monkeys willy-nilly. They need their training.”

Kevin narrowed his eyes.

“Surely monkeys need lunch breaks, too.”

“Well, yes, but someone has to feed them, don’t they? You can’t just let them heat up ready meals in the microwave.”

“Those have a really high sugar content, anyway,” Kevin sniffed. “Much better to cook from scratch. Andrew, more crème brûlée?”

Andrew looked between them. Neil was briefly jealous that he was able to arch just one eyebrow like that, and put as much disbelieving scorn into such a minuscule expression.

“I,” Andrew said deliberately, “am going home. You two can finish clown practice.”

“Well, come back for lunch tomorrow,” Kevin demanded. “You can try my pizza while you and Neil do your dating thing.”

“Kevin,” Neil said warningly.

“Neil,” Kevin said warningly back.

Andrew got up, carefully navigating around the terrariums.

“Bye Andrew,” Neil said dully.

“Bye Andrew,” Kevin said mournfully.

“Oh, shut up,” Neil told him. The door closed behind Andrew, and Neil fell back to the floor with a thump. “Great. You scared him off. Thanks a lot.”

Kevin was looking at Andrew’s abandoned plate.

“He ate my casserole,” he said reverently.

“No, I dumped it out the window,” Neil grumbled, feeling petty, but he didn’t think Kevin heard.

-

“Neil,” Matt said, with the same air of desolation as when Dan had told him that he was not allowed to call the little kiosk at the pool the ‘Lagoon Saloon’. “Neil, my pal, my buddy, my boy.”

“Did you forget to buy toilet paper again,” Neil said, sliding into the booth beside him. “Because I’m not driving back to my house to get you some.”

“No,” Matt spluttered, offended. “That was one time, and it was really urgent—anyway, this is about you.”

Neil quirked his eyebrows.

“Did _I_ forget to buy toilet paper? Matt, were you spying on me when I went grocery shopping?”

“It’s about you,” Matt said gravely, “ _and Andrew_.”

“What about him?”

“No need to get so defensive,” Matt said, holding up his hands.

“I’m not defensive,” Neil hissed, defensively. “Will you spit it out already?”

Matt exchanged a look with Dan, who was filling a pitcher with iced tea behind the bar for Neil, and Allison, who was lounging against the pool table blowing dust from the tip of her billiard cue like a gun.

“You seem, er, fond of him, lately,” Matt said, when no one came to his aid.

“We hang out sometimes,” Neil shrugged. “Like I do with you guys. So?”

Matt folded his hands on the table and cleared his throat.

“He lets you ride his bike,” he said, like that meant anything. “He doesn’t even let Aaron ride his bike.”

“Aaron is terrified of the thing,” Neil snorted. “He wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.”

“What he means,” Allison said, rolling her eyes and pointing her cue at him, “is that you two have a shitload of sexual tension, and you might want to get that resolved sometime soon.”

“Allison,” Neil sighed.

“I meant sexual tension in a non-sexual way, duh,” Allison tried sweetly, shrugging her denim-clad shoulder.

“So just tension?”

“Hmm, no.”

“Romantic tension,” Matt suggested hopefully.

“Boyd, I thought we all agreed that it was better for everyone involved if this was a one-time thing,” Allison said.

“How, exactly, is it supposed to be a one-time thing if it’s not sexual?” Dan asked, exasperatedly.

“They could kiss it out,” Matt mused. “Like that time you and Renee-”

“We are not talking about my sexuality crisis, we are talking about Neil’s,” Dan said tightly.

“It’s not a crisis if you enjoy it,” Allison smirked, winking at her.

“I am right here,” Neil felt the need to remind them. “And there is no crisis whatsoever. I’ll thank you to keep your noses out of my non-sexual sex life.”

“Sorry,” Matt said sheepishly, topping up his iced tea even though he had only taken a few sips. The ice cubes twittered merrily inside the glass and the lemon wedge slid from the rim, landing on the table with a wet splat.

“I appreciate your concern-” Neil gritted out, and Allison snorted.

“No, you don’t. But we love you anyway. Continue.”

“But it’s really none of your business. Can we talk about something else now? I’m sure there’s plenty of embarrassing things Aaron has got up to since the last pub quiz.”

As if summoned by his words, the door swung open to admit a windswept Aaron, followed by Katelyn, Andrew and Renee.

“What did we miss?” Aaron said while Katelyn went to get drinks and chat to Dan, and Renee sidled off to the pool table to join Allison.

“Oh, great,” Matt said. “You’re just in time for our weekly Aaron-bashing. I heard you spilled your smoothie and used the dog to mop it up. Is it true? Two people saw you.”

Neil was distracted from Aaron’s indignant splutter by the presence of another body, sliding into the seat next to him. There was never enough space for all of them around the table, and Neil felt electrifyingly aware of where Andrew’s shoulder pressed against his. He was wearing a faded, dusky pink t-shirt with a peeling beach print today, washed to flimsy softness, and once again smelled like coconut and vanilla.

“Nice colour,” Neil hummed. “Did you forget to do laundry or…?”

“Nice jeans,” Andrew retorted. “Shame someone ran them over with a lawnmower.”

“It’s called fashion,” Neil said, picking at the rips in the denim.

“I think you mean trash.”

“Hmm, no, trash is what you put in your hair to make it look cool.”

“Guys, what’s happening? Is Neil flirting?” someone stage-whispered to his right. He ignored them, eyes fixed on Andrew, who likewise didn’t drop his gaze.

“I don’t think so,” someone whispered back. “Neil’s anaconda don’t want none unless you form a deep emotional connection with him first.”

“What if that’s what this is,” someone else whispered frantically. “What if they formed a deep emotional connection without us noticing.”

“Want to get out of here,” Andrew said, at normal volume.

“Love to,” Neil said loudly.

There was a wolf-whistle from the direction of the pool table as they stood up. Neil wasn’t entirely sure if it had come from Allison or from Renee and didn’t particularly want to know. He followed Andrew out the door, ignoring the feverish muttering behind them, and took a deep breath.

It wasn’t yet dark outside. The sky was a pearly blue dotted with peach and ginger clouds and the pavement still exhaled the day’s last sticky residue of warmth. Neil led them over to his car which Andrew regarded with a look of utter disgust, though he still got into the passenger seat and buckled himself in without Neil having to go through the usual tirade of defending the rusty old thing.

He drove up the winding path that led to an old viewing platform halfway up a hill past the northern end of the town and parked the car in the deserted lot. They arrived just as the sun was lowering itself into the approaching tide of the night, warm pink light washing over the horizon and setting the clouds adrift, a deeper darkness still lurking just out of sight.

Andrew stopped and crouched down by the side of the path, picking something from the tangle of wild herbs. When he caught up to Neil, he had a four-leafed clover pinched between his fingers.

“Here,” he said, holding it out. “Just in case.”

Neil’s heart shook as he reached out to take it and their fingers brushed. He looked down at it, spinning the fragile stem between his thumb and index finger until the leaves were a uniform green blur.

“Thanks.”

He tucked it into his breast pocket, careful not to crease the leaves.

“So, were you?” Andrew asked as they stood by the railing, watching the stars twinkle in the depths of the sky like tiny scales. “Flirting?”

“As a general rule, no,” Neil said, amused. “But with you? Yes.”

Andrew’s hands tightened around the banister and suddenly Neil lost interest in the sunset, the cheap thrills of the open sky, the distant lights of the town below.

“Good to know,” Andrew said through clenched teeth. Neil’s stomach twisted for a moment—had he misinterpreted the signs? He was usually good at picking up on them, but Andrew was harder to read than most people. All he knew was that somewhere along the way Andrew had stopped being merely interesting and started being… familiar.

“Is that a problem?” Neil asked, swallowing around the sudden sensation of dry sand clogging up his throat.

“No,” Andrew said. Maybe it was just the light, but Neil was pretty sure he hadn’t noticed the sunburn on his cheeks and neck before. “Not a problem.”

“Okay,” Neil said. “But do you want me to stop?”

Finally, Andrew looked at him. Pink-cheeked and wind-tousled, his hair bleached by the sun, he almost seemed ethereal in that moment, like he would vanish with the light at any second.

“No,” he said again, taking a step closer.

Neil slowly reached out, not really sure what for until his hand found Andrew’s face.

“I have some aloe in the car,” he murmured. “For your sunburn.”

Andrew closed his eyes for a moment like he was counting to ten, then he leaned in. Neil moved forward at the same time and they nearly collided but somehow found purchase in a clumsy kiss anyway. Andrew breathed in sharply through his nose and took another step forward, stumbling, catching them both against the railing. Neil let himself be tipped back and tentatively licked against the seam of Andrew’s mouth, tasting chapstick and a faint minty hint like toothpaste. His hands crept down Andrew’s back slowly, then tentatively slipped into the back pockets of his jeans when Andrew didn’t object.

He flexed his fingers, not quite brave enough to squeeze, and Andrew drew back from their kiss long enough to tease, “Where’s your sense of adventure?” with just enough of a challenge in his voice that Neil couldn’t very well back down.

“Wow,” he mumbled when Andrew pulled him back upright at last, still nipping gently at his open mouth and nosing at his neck. This in turn exposed Andrew’s own neck to Neil, who thought it rude not to introduce himself and earned a shivery shudder in reward that travelled all the way down Andrew’s body where it was still pressed against his.

“It’s getting cold,” Andrew said abruptly, pulling back.

“ _Wow_ ,” Neil said again, this time with less awe and more sarcasm. “We’re not going to talk about your neck fetish at all?”

“Nope,” Andrew replied, popping the p between his lips like a chewing gum bubble. “Let’s go.”

He tugged one of Neil’s hands out of his back pockets and turned to go. Neil happily let himself be towed back to the car but stalled their departure with more kisses against the still-warm passenger side door, Andrew’s hands snaking up underneath the loose hem of his shirt.

“You know,” Neil said when they broke apart, “for a while I wondered if you were interested in Renee, because you kept coming to Reese’s lessons with him but never went in the water yourself.”

Andrew snorted.

“Hmm, yeah,” Neil smirked. “I realise my mistake now.”

Andrew shoved him off and slid into the car, and Neil went around to the other side with a bubbly, carbonated feeling fizzing in his chest.

“Where to next?” he asked, turning the key in the ignition.

“The pool,” Andrew said.

“Never thought I’d get you so addicted to swimming,” Neil chuckled. He didn’t miss the incredulous look Andrew shot him, and yeah—maybe it wasn’t swimming Andrew was addicted to—but that didn’t mean Neil couldn’t make use of it and teach Andrew a few more basics while he had him in the water.

And if they ended up kissing more than they were swimming, well. Wymack had known what he was signing up for when he’d given Neil a set of keys to the pool to do with as he liked.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaron: Andrew what should I name my child  
> Andrew, eating peanut butter cups by the handful: Reese  
> Aaron: Cool
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, click the kudos button, leave a comment after the beep, or subscribe to me for more of the same bullshit. 
> 
> If you're looking for more soft summer feels, you might also enjoy my other fics [take yourself home](http://www.archiveofourown.org/works/23670889) or [Spookies & Cream](http://www.archiveofourown.org/works/23737447).
> 
> And if you ever wanted to have a say in where a fanfic goes in future chapters, here's your chance - check out my newest project: [Paint The Moon Blue](http://www.archiveofourown.org/works/24275536/chapters/58509010), an interactive choose-your-own-adventure type Andreil fic that I'm co-writing with exybee! The poll for the first chapter ends TONIGHT!


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